


Not For the World

by GenericUsername01



Series: PRIDE MONTH [12]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Sarek, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dystopia, Intrigue, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, T'hy'la, Vulcan Empire, he buys a child, pride month writing prompts, sarek doesn't have morals he only has logic, sorry - Freeform, sorta???, this was supposed to be a oneshot and now it has Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-05-25 18:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericUsername01/pseuds/GenericUsername01
Summary: Prompt: ProposalSpock is the eight-year-old prince of the Vulcan Empire when he meets his t'hy'la at a ball. As Emperor, it is Sarek's prerogative to acquire the boy for his son.





	1. Chapter 1

The ball was in celebration of the 250th anniversary of the Empire's foundation. It was held in the Grand Palace of Shi'kahr, and attendance was mandatory for all invitees.

Winona Kirk stood off on the sidelines, sipping a flute of Vulcan port and wishing she was anywhere else.

She had only been invited as a showpiece. Her husband had been the first human to take command of a Vulcan ship. He had done it for all of twelve minutes, and died in the process. Her family was now used as a shining example of human loyalty to the Vulcan Empire.

In reality, George hadn't had a single shred of loyalty to the Empire. He couldn't've cared one way or the other about it. He joined the Imperial Fleet because he loved space, and he sacrificed himself for two humans rather than eight hundred Vulcans.

And ever since then his wife had been forcibly dragged to countless political events as the exemplary docile human. The Vulcans thought it very quaint and child-like when she cried for her husband. Her grief had been highly publicized.

Five years later, and she wasn't nearly as entertaining for her overlords, but she was still a symbol, and so she and little Jimmy had been forced onto a transport and dragged off of Earth to attend a ball celebrating the 250th year of humans' subjugation. They had been made to dress in the exotic traditional clothing of their homeworld, which meant Winona was wearing a slinky evening gown in a room full of Vulcans in conservative, full-length robes, and Jimmy was wearing a tiny suit that looked just plain strange on a kindergartner.

They weren't the only aliens there, thankfully. The Vulcan Empire was expansive and covered many planets. The subsequently appointed native monarchs of all these planets were all in attendance, as well as a few other people of note-- the rare non-Vulcan scientist or military personnel that had actually managed to scrape up some acclaim for themselves.

And of course there was the Emperor's human "wife," who willingly consented to the marriage, or so the official story goes.

Somehow Winona got pulled unwillingly into a conversation with a Vulcan noble who was intentionally trying to provoke a reaction from her and his high-end Deltan escort, and didn't notice when Jim slipped away to go explore.

There were like, no kids at the ball. Just a bunch of stuffy grown ups talking about stuffy grown up stuff and drinking their special juice that smelled funny and Jim wasn't allowed to touch, which was stupid. Jim saw a little Andorian toddler, a pair of teenage Tellarite twins, a human teenager, and like fifteen Vulcan kids of assorted ages. With the balls' attendance well into the hundreds, that wasn't all that many.

But Jim had all the tenacity of a stubborn human five-year-old, so he was  _going_ to find someone to play with.

And also he was going to try some of the special juice.

He crept along the side of the wall like a superspy in those old twentieth-century movies he liked.

"What are you doing?" a Vulcan boy asked.

"Shhhh," Jim said, putting a finger to his lips.

"That is not a word in Imperial Standard Vulcan."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Duh. It's a human word!"

"The use of human languages was banned centuries ago."

"Well, it's not a word-word. It's a... a sound. A sound that acts like a word."

"An interjection?"

"I dunno what that means."

"Your speech patterns are troubling; however, I deem them within acceptable parameters to not warrant the authorities' notice."

Jim scowled. "So, if I did use a human word, you would get the police?"

"Affirmative."

"Well that's just rude. I'll have you know I don't even know any human words. But if I did, I totally would say one right now, just because you're being a shaka."

The Vulcan bristled. "You will not speak to me in this way."

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it? Call the word police?"

"They are not called the word police. The Bureau for Readjustment of Language is a highly respe--"

"Blah blah blah-ity blah."

"Those are not words."

"Yup-er-doodles."

"You are illogical."

"And you are  _boring,"_ Jim said. "Come on! Don't you ever do anything fun? Help me steal some of the fancy juice!"

"Theft is-- What fancy juice?"

"The stuff all the adults are drinking!"

"That is Vulcan port. It is not for children."

"Why?"

"It is an intoxicant."

Jim's eyes widened. "A drug?"

"Indeed."

He grabbed the Vulcan boy's arm urgently. "We have to get that stuff away from my mom!"

"It is perfectly safe."

"You said it was a drug," Jim said. "So which is it?"

"Both," the Vulcan said. "There are many substances that fit the technical definition of drugs and are consumed regularly and safely, so long as proper precautions are taken and moderation is used. One such substance is Terran coffee."

"Oh," Jim said. His mom drank coffee everyday, and she was fine.

But still. Drugs are wrong, and bad. Jim would have to make sure she didn't drink too much of the port.

And he would have to find something fun to do with this Vulcan boy who clearly didn't know how to play.

"What's your name?" he asked, realizing he hadn't yet.

The Vulcan hesitated, tensing slightly. "Spock."

"Cool. My name's Jim. Some people call me Jimmy, though, too, and I guess that's okay."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Jim."

"Thanks! I like you too," he said. "Are you from around here? 'Cuz some big ol' Vulcans dragged me and Mom here in a shuttle all the way from Iowa."

"I am from the city."

"Great! You know where all the cool stuff is then."

"There are very few things in Shi'Kahr which can be described as 'cool.'"

Jim rolled his eyes again. "Cool in the human way, Spock. Cool as in awesome."

"Ah."

"So?" Jim asked expectantly.

"What?" Spock asked.

"Show me something cool!"

* * *

Spock took him outside to his mother's gardens.

The night was dark and moonless and full of unearthly stars. The garden was very much Vulcan, with beaten red sand paths and ornate stonework everywhere. The plants were mostly cacti, with the occasional glowing flower or towering spiral thistle. An enclosure was set up in the center of the garden full of nests of desert stones where blue lara birds slept for the night.

"This is pretty," Jim said softly.

"Indeed," Spock agreed. "I understand that human vision is poor at night. It is a shame I could not show you this during the daylight hours, so that you could fully appreciate it."

"S'okay," he said. "It's nice anyway."

For a while, they walked in silence, wandering through the garden peacefully, Jim soaking in everything he could.

Spock led the little human to the center of the bird enclosure, where a bubbling fountain lay-- the picture of opulence on a desert world, water for the sake of aesthetics. The two children sat on the ledge of the fountain and looked up through the wooden latticework to the stars.

"What are those really bright ones?" Jim asked.

"40 Eridani B and C," Spock said. "Our sun's sister stars."

"That's so cool," Jim said. "Sol is a singular star system."

"I am aware."

"But we have constellations. Stories about what the stars are doing. And that's really cool, but Vulcan doesn't have that."

"Not in modern times. Such myths are illogical."

"Modern times? So Vulcan used to have constellations?"

"Yes," Spock said, gazing upwards. "However, I am not familiar with any of them. It is not spoken of."

"That's sad," Jim said. "You should come to Earth so I can teach you the constellations."

"That is not possible," Spock said.

"But why?" Jim asked. "I like you. I want you to be my friend. And you can come to school with me and we can go exploring and have adventures. Don't you wanna do that?"

He touched Spock's wrist lightly, knowing better than to grab a Vulcan's hand like he would a human's. A zing of electricity ran through the connection, and Spock gasped anyway.

"Sorry!" Jim said, jerking away. He looked at his hand like it had personally insulted him.

But Spock looked shell-shocked. "T'hy'la," he breathed.

Jim blinked up at him curiously. "What's that word mean?"

"Come, Jim. We must speak with my father." Spock took him gently by the wrist and started leading him back inside.

"Okay," Jim shrugged.

Spock pushed through the massive stone doors and the two children slipped back into the palace. Spock led his human through wandering corridors and backways until they reached the ballroom again. They slipped between couples doing the touchless ballroom dancing of Vulcan bondmates. Spock led Jim straight up to a couple in elaborate, deep red robes, the man wearing a somewhat ominous-looking pendant around his neck.

Spock tugged on the man's sleeve. "Sa-mekh," he said. "I have located my t'hy'la."

The man turned. "I beg your pardon?"

"This is Jim," Spock said.

"Hi," Jim waved.

"Jim is my t'hy'la."

The woman's eyes widened. Jim looked at her curiously. He had never seen a Vulcan make a facial expression before, and she was definitely dressed as a Vulcan, headscarf and everything.

"Spock, pi'veh, are you certain?" she asked.

"Quite," he nodded.

"We will have you brought before a healer," the man said. "Come, children."

"Um, my mom says I'm not supposed to go places with strangers," Jim said.

"I am not a stranger," Spock said.

The five-year-old considered that. That was true. He trusted Spock with his whole heart, and he didn't even know why. "Okay."

The Vulcan couple strode through the crowd with confidence, children tagging behind and the crowd parting like water before them. They walked up to another elderly Vulcan and spoke in quick, hushed tones with her, then the entire group left to a private sitting room. The elder had Spock and Jim kneel before her, and then she touched a hand to each of their temples.

Jim felt a cool presence breeze into his mind and probe about lightly. He winced and recoiled from the touch, light and professional as it was.

"It is true," the healer said. "They are t'hy'lara."

The woman put a hand over her mouth, ostensibly in shock, while the man just looked severe as ever.

"What's that mean?" Jim asked again. "What's going on?"

"Jim," the man said gravely. "You and my son, Spock, share a bond. It is a bond of warriors, hailing from ancient times. You two are destined to meet, have always been destined to meet, and will grow to become brothers-in-arms, friends, lovers."

Jim's eyes widened. "Does that mean Spock can come back to Earth with me?"

"Negative."

"Jim, sweetie, where are your parents? We need to talk to them," the woman said.

"Okay," he said, and happily led Spock and his parents back into the ballroom in search of his mother. He spotted her almost instantly.

Relief flooded over her features the second she saw him. "Jim!" she scolded. "Where have you been?"

"With Spock," he said. Spock nodded.

Winona looked up from the children to see the Emperor and Empress Consort. She gaped.

"Your Royal Highnesses! I am so sorry--"

"There is no need for apologies," Sarek said. "Meeting Jim was quite fortuitous."

That gave her pause. "It was?"

"He's Spock's t'hy'la," Amanda gushed.

"T'hy'la?!" Winona asked. "Are you sure?"

"We have already had the children examined by a healer. It has been confirmed," Sarek said. "It would be cruel to separate them now."

Winona's eyes narrowed. "I don't intend to uproot my family's entire life."

"We have no need of your entire family, Ms. Kirk. Only your son," he said.

"You aren't taking my boy away."

"You clearly have no understanding of the nature of their bond."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me then."

"It is our most sacred, revered, and rare of mental bindings, as well as the only one that forms on its own. The mistreatment of such a bond is one of Vulcan's gravest crimes. Your suggestion that it be neglected after its discovery is not only shameful and sacrilege, but also illegal. I will not have my son disrespected in such a way. I will not allow such a horrific offense to come to pass because of your human stubbornness."

Winona's eyes were fire. "Listen here, Your Royal Highness. I don't care who you are or who your son is. You aren't taking my son away from me."

Sarek bristled, and rose to his full height. "As the Emperor, I can and will have you incarcerated in the lowliest of dungeons for--"

"Sarek," Amanda said, touching his arm. She gave him a pleading look.

The Emperor did not sigh. He did, however, take a deep breath. "What will it take for you to allow your son to live with us?"

Winona snorted. "Not for the world, buddy. I'm not trading my son away, and all your money and jewels aren't gonna do a damn thing to change my mind."

For a while, nobody said anything.

"Truly?" Sarek asked. "Not for the world?"

"Yeah?" Winona frowned.

"Your son would be well-treated and cared for. He would have a place of honor as Prince Consort. We would care for him as if he were our own, and you would of course be allowed to visit whenever you liked."

"Wait, what are you saying?"

"I offer you the world, Ms. Kirk. Your world. I would emancipate Terra from the Vulcan Empire in exchange for custody of your son," he said. "I ask you to consider this carefully. Is the freedom of eleven billion humans worth more than one?"

Winona looked to little Jimmy in horror.

"And he would be free," Amanda assured her. "Practically a prince himself. I'm human too, you know, and Vulcan is just a lovely place. Jim would have opportunities that he would never have come by otherwise. And you'll still be his mother. Don't worry, I won't try to steal him away from you." She laughed lightly.

Eleven billion.

One five-year-old boy.

"Mom?" Jim asked. "Can Spock and I go play?"

"Yes," she said, throat dry. "Yes, I think you can."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm figuring this fic will be between four and five chapters? I want to try and keep it short. This is gonna be a bit of a shorter chapter than the others because it's mostly a transition between Jim's life on Earth and his life on Vulcan.

The House of Surak agreed to allow the Kirks one last week with Jim, to get everything around and prepare to send him off.

Winona sat her two boys down in the livingroom for a family meeting.

"Okay," she breathed. "So I have an announcement to make."

"Are we moving?" Sam, nine, asked.

"Well. Um. Jim is."

"What?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean, Mommy?" Jim asked.

She gave her kids a watery, stiff smile. "I made a deal with the Emperor."

Sam's jaw dropped. "You  _sold_ Jim?!"

"What?!" Jim shrieked, now distressed.

"No! Okay, I did not 'sell' Jim. I simply made a deal. Emperor Sarek has agreed to emancipate Terra from the Vulcan Empire if Jimmy goes and lives with him. Him and Spock."

"Spock?" Jim asked, perking up.

"Who's Spock?" Sam snarled.

"One of the princes. The young one," Winona said. "He's very nice."

Sam wrapped his arms around his little brother. "I don't care! He can't have Jim!"

"He's the Emperor's son, Sam. He can pretty much do and have whatever he wants."

"But a  _person?!"_

Winona sighed. "I know. I know, okay? But there's nothing we can do about. The fate of the world is at stake. God, that sounds so melodramatic." She ran a hand through her wispy blonde hair.

Jim snuggled up to his brother. "Mommy? Am I never gonna see you again?"

"No, no, Jimmy, you'll see me all the time, I promise. The royal family said we could visit whenever we wanted."

"Even Christmas?"

"Even Christmas."

"Good," he swallowed. "Why can't Spock come here instead? Why do I have to go to Vulcan?"

She smiled weakly. "Because, sweetie, Spock's family is very, very important."

"So? They could all come. They could share my room."

She leaned forward and kissed the top of her son's head. "I wish we could do that, kiddo. But see, your room is just too small for the whole royal family to live in."

Jim frowned.

"When does he leave?" Sam asked quietly.

"Seven days."

* * *

Seven days flew by in the blink of an eye. Jim was formally withdrawn from his kindergarten class. He cried when he said goodbye to Gary Mitchell, his best friend and the boy next door. He packed his suitcase full of stuffed animals and nothing else, insisting that they were all his friends and he couldn't leave out a single one. Winona tried not to cry herself when he asked her to take down the glow stars from his bedroom ceiling, so he could take them with him and make the Earth constellations in his room on Vulcan. Sam was withdrawn and moody and didn't speak to his mother or his brother the entire week, until the last day, when he burst into tears at the spaceport, clutching at Jim and refusing to let go.

The royal family stood there impassively, waiting for Jim. Winona felt a little bit more broken inside.

She gave her son one last lingering hug, refusing to cry, and somehow forced a smile and said she'd see him soon.

She blew him a kiss as the little boy trotted off to join the royal family, a mix of excitement and trepidation.

"Hi!" he shouted, waving. Amanda smiled warmly, and ushered him into the shuttle.

* * *

Jim was practically glued to Spock's side the entire ride, practically in his lap. The Vulcan boy draped an arm over his shoulders protectively, showing more physical affection than he had since he was younger than Jim was. He couldn't seem to help it. Jim required comfort in the form of touch due to his human heritage, and as his t'hy'la, it was only logical that Spock provide this.

Spock had two teenage siblings-- a human sister, age fifteen, named Michael, and a Vulcan brother, age fourteen, named Sybok. But Michael acted like a Vulcan and Sybok acted like a human. Sybok also appeared to be attempting to grow a beard. It was going badly.

Jim learned that the red pendant of doom that Sarek always wore was the Vulcan equivalent of a crown, and no, he couldn't play with it. Also, Sarek looked perpetually disapproving towards everyone who wasn't Amanda.

It was pretty much a relief when the ride ended and they finally arrived on Vulcan.

The Grand Palace of Shi'Kahr was even more ominous and imposing than Jim remembered, made entirely of sharply cut black stone, all harsh edges and steep angles and spires. It looked like an evil villain's fortress, in Jim's mind. He doubted the Vulcans were aware of that.

Maybe Jim should tell them so they could redecorate.

* * *

Sarek addressed the crowds and the media gathered from the balcony of the Grand Palace, his family arranged neatly behind him.

"I have some announcements to make," he said. "The first of which is a cause for great celebration for all peoples of the Empire. It will change the future of our leadership greatly. In ancient times, this would have been considered a blessing from the gods, and further proof of our House's right to rule. It is my honor to inform you all that my son, Prince Spock of Vulcan, son of Sarek, son of Skon, has been blessed with a t'hy'la bond."

The crowd of Vulcans, appropriately, did not verbally react. The viewers across the Empire would be doing enough of that on their own, and to say something now would mean risking hearing the Emperor's next words.

The children stepped forward, and Sarek put a hand on each of their shoulders. "I present to you now Prince Consort James Tiberius Kirk of Earth, son of George, son of Tiberius. In a show of my gratitude for the child, I proclaim Terra to be emancipated from the Vulcan Empire."

* * *

Humans cried. It took three weeks for them to get it together enough to hold emergency elections, and those three weeks were filled with chaos and anarchy. The planet splintered into three separate governmental bodies as all the Vulcan forces and politicians were recalled home. Human nobles who had been appointed by the Empire tried desperately to retain their ranks, and the Queen of Earth did manage to stay Queen of Eurasia. Afroceania and the United Americas held Earth's first democratic elections in centuries. The candidates were not necessarily good or qualified, but they could deal with all of that later.

For now, they were free.


	3. Chapter 3

T'Pring of Vulcan, Duchess of Raal, Viscountess of Vulcana Regar, daughter of T'Verun, daughter of T'Mir, of the clan of Nashih, had been betrothed for 1.82 years to Spock of Vulcan, Prince of the Empire, Marquess of Vulcan, Earl of Shi'Kahr, son of Sarek, son of Skon, of the clan of S'chn T'gai when it was revealed that James Kirk was his t'hy'la.

T'Pring, wisely, offered no opinion on the matter.

Her mother was the very picture of restrained fury, on the other hand, all while putting on a reasonable pretense of congratulating the young prince.

And of course the royal family threw another ball in celebration. The day was declared a holiday for all citizens of the Empire to spend in feasting and celebration. The Grand Palace was overflowing with food and drink, rare flowers imported from other planets perfuming the air. Nobles swished about in elaborate dress and offered gift after gift to the young couple, eager to show their support.

They had the first dance.

Jim didn't know anything about Vulcan ballroom dancing, except that the couples didn't touch and moved around each other in a perfect mirror of their partner's movements, and it was only done by bonded couples.

The palace was watching. Heck, with as many holocams as were in the room, the whole Empire was probably watching. He swallowed nervously and moved to the center of the room with Spock.

Spock would know what to do. All he had to do was copy Spock, right? He could do that.

The orchestra started up and Spock began to move.

"You are doing it wrong," Spock said.

"I know," Jim replied.

"Close your eyes. Reach for the bond and use it as your guide."

Jim had absolutely no clue what that meant, so he just closed his eyes and thought about Spock, continuing to move blindly the entire time. At the very least, he didn't bump into Spock at any point, which he figured meant at least he didn't screw up too badly.

They danced until the song ended and Jim forgot other people were even there.

* * *

They didn't give Jim a room, they gave him a massive suite with a giant walk in closet and his own private bathroom. There was even a mini-stasis unit, but all the snacks in it were super healthy-- fruits and vegetables and granola bars. Vulcans apparently didn't believe in junk food.

And he had his own giant holovision with the six newest gaming consoles already hooked up. He was super excited about that... for about three seconds, until he realized Sam wasn't here for him to play with, and neither was Gary or any of his friends.

But whatever. Maybe Spock would play video games with him.

He also had high-tech computer and a massive bookcase lined with rows and rows of padds to choose from. The room had a huge four-poster bed and opened out to a large balcony that overlooked Shi'Kahr. Jim could see the entirety of the city from the there, all the way out to the desert beyond it, the expanse of red sand that stretched on and on until it met the horizon.

Vulcan's sky was yellow instead of blue. The planet had no moon, but it was part of a trinary star system, and at night, two impossibly big and bright stars lit up the sky. They weren't moons, weren't reflective and certainly not that close. But Jim stood on his balcony looking up at them, and thought they were pretty cool anyway.

A sudden pang of longing hit him when he realized he couldn't see any of his familiar constellations. He hadn't had time to put the sticker-stars up on his ceiling yet.

He wondered how long it would be before he got to visit Earth again. And then he yawned, eyes drooping, and decided to go to bed.

He pulled out Beary from his suitcase and crawled into the big, cold, grown-up sized bed. It had a canopy, he realized. He wouldn't be able to see the stars at all.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was an oddly silent affair at first. A Tellarite servant came to lead Jim down to a grand dining hall where the royal family ate. That was another thing that Jim had noticed-- all the servants were aliens.

He blabbered on to the poor guy about getting the canopy on his bed removed and putting the stars up to be the Earth constellations, and the servant nodded obligingly, assuring him that will all be taken care of, until the reached the dining hall. Then he pulled out Jim's seat for him and disappeared.

"What's this?" Jim asked, poking at his bowl with a spoon.

"Plomeek soup," the queen consort said. "It's a traditional Vulcan breakfast food, mostly."

Jim tasted a spoonful and grimaced. The soup was purple, and while that seemed promising to Jim's five-year-old self, it actually tasted like liquefied lima beans,  _not_ like candy and magic. "Do you guys have any Lucky Charms?" he asked.

"Jimmy, that's very rude. Now, eat your soup. It's good for you," she said.

He scowled. "You aren't my mom."

"Jimmy," she said. "No, I'm not your mom biologically, but I am your mother-in-law, and I'm in charge of raising you. I want you to call me Mom, and to think of me as your mother. I only want what's best for you."

"You want me to call you Mom?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Not-Mom said. "It's an Earth tradition, actually, to address your in-laws as parents. It shows respect and acceptance. I'm Spock's mother, and you belong to Spock. In a way, that makes you my son too-- my son-in-law. Do you understand?"

"I belong to Spock?"

Spock looked up at him from his seat across the table. "Of course," he said.

Jim felt weirdly warm inside his chest and on his face. He belonged to Spock. "Okay," he said. He looked to the queen lady. "Okay, Mom."

She smiled at him, and he ate his soup.


	4. Chapter 4

"Jim, you must eat," Spock said.

"No," Jim said. "I'm not gonna."

"You will die if you do not eat."

"If my choices are plomeek soup or death, then I choose death."

Sarek and Amanda shared a look over the table. Spock rested a hand on Jim's arm, looking at him with bottomless brown eyes.

"Jim," he said quietly. "Please eat."

Jim nearly caved right then and there, but he shook his head firmly. "No. It's  _gross._ "

"It is beneficial for your health," Sarek said. Jim stuck his tongue out at him.

He knew instantly that that was a big mistake.

* * *

Sarek was smart. He wanted Jim to be a nice little compliant human who did as he was told without question. There were things that Jim wanted and he had been given, and he didn't seem to realize that they could be taken away.

Furthermore, he did not seem to understand his place here, at the palace. So Sarek resolved to make that clear to him. He was an alien on this world. He was property-- owned by the prince, but property nonetheless. He had, essentially, no rights.

Spock crept down into the dungeon uneasily. Sarek had not been unduly cruel, at least. This particular wing was unused currently, entirely empty except for Jim. He was easy to find, in a cell towards the back, sniffling and facing the wall on his bunk.

An untouched bowl of plomeek soup sat on the floor. Spock looked at it disdainfully.

"Jim?"

"Go away," he said, not turning around. Spock faltered.

"Do you truly wish it?" he asked.

"Yeah!" Jim whirled around. "Of course I 'truly wish it'! It's because of  _you_ and you're stupid family that I'm here! I don't even know what's going on, Spock!"

"You have been grounded for--"

"No! Why am I here? Why am I on Vulcan? I  _hate_ this stupid planet!"

Spock's eyes widened and he cast a glance over his shoulder. Illogical, he knew. No one was around to hear Jim's treasonous words.

"You are on Vulcan because you are my t'hy'la, my destined mate," he said, eyes cast down. "My father bought you in a trade agreement with your mother: the emancipation of Terra in exchange for your custody."

"What?" Jim asked, his voice sounding small and broken.

"I am the reason you were brought to this place. I am sorry. I did not anticipate--"

"Get out!" he shouted. "I told you to leave! Get out! Don't ever talk to me again! Get out, get out, get out!"

Spock turned and fled, and he heard Jim crying as he reached the stairs.

* * *

Jim was released from the dungeon three weeks later, having been fed nothing but plomeek soup the whole time. When he returned, he was meek and quiet and wouldn't meet Sarek's eyes. His voice was rough and scratchy from disuse and crying. He was sick and mildly dehydrated, as well.

Amanda hugged and shushed him for hours while he cried.

Dinner that night was tense and silent. Jim picked at his balkra despondently.

"Father," Spock said. "I recommend that Jim be returned to Earth immediately. He is not happy here."

"His happiness is irrelevant."

"Please," Spock said. At this point, the entire table was staring at him in shock. Vulcans do not say please. Everyone knows this. Spock has never before in his life used the word.

He continued. "I will not keep a despairing bondmate. Jim is my t'hy'la. His happiness is my own. I ask that you please return him to Earth and to his family. I shall be content to marry T'Pring and attend the Vulcan Science Academy and adhere to your wishes for my life."

"You are being illogical," Sarek said. "You will never be content without your t'hy'la, having known and then lost him."

"I am not content with him now, being kept as a prisoner simply to please me."

"Spock," he said. "You are never to bring this up again. You do not know what is best, and I will not permit you to question my authority. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father."

* * *

Someone knocked on the door to Spock's suite late in the night. He opened the door to reveal Jim there in blue sky pajamas and holding a teddy bear. "I can't sleep," he said. "And the king is scary, so I can't go to Mom."

There was a beat of silence.

"Well?" Jim said. "Say something."

"You told me never to speak to you again."

"And you were gonna?"

"I will abide by your wishes."

Jim huffed. He looked a bit like he had been crying. "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

"Of course," Spock said, moving aside to allow him entrance into the suite. "Do you wish for me to vacate the bed, or--"

"No, dummy, the point is to share it," he said, crawling in. Spock found this acceptable, and joined him in the bed.

Jim scooted closer to him until they were less than a foot apart, facing each other. He hugged his teddy bear up high on his chest. "I miss my real mom," he said. "Whenever I was sad or had bad dreams, she would always let me sleep in her bed with her, and it would make everything all better. I want to hug her again."

"I grieve with thee," Spock said. "Perhaps I can speak with my father again."

"He told you not to, though. Won't you get in trouble?"

"Indeed," he said. "But I believe you are far more than worth it."

Jim shook his head. "Don't. He'll throw you in a dungeon or feed you to a dragon or something."

"The only dragon-like creatures my father possesses are far too small to eat even a child."

"You know your dad's an evil villain, right?"

"Some have alleged that."

"Okay. Good. As long as you know," he said. They lapsed into silence for long minutes.

"Jim?" Spock asked.

"Yeah?"

"I am sorry that you are here."

"'S not your fault, Spock," he said sleepily. "You didn't choose me."

That was true, he supposed. But one time, Amanda had taken him outside to her gardens and told how humans wished on shooting stars, and sometimes, if they were very, exceptionally lucky, their wishes would come true. And then Spock closed his eyes and wished with his entire heart that he wouldn't be lonely anymore.

The very next day, Jim had shown up in the palace like a gift, the answer to his wishes.

The human snuggled up to him and Spock held him close, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a horrible person.

* * *

Jim fled the room as soon as his last private tutor of the day dismissed him, zooming over to where he knew Spock would be. He had been on Vulcan for five months now, and the only thing he liked about it was Spock.

Guards opened the heavy doors for him as soon as they saw him coming and he burst into Spock's 'classroom,' his own tutor just packing up for the day.

"Spock!" He ran up to his Vulcan, who obligingly wrapped him in his arms and put a kiss on his head. For some reason, Jim always felt so much better whenever Spock was touching him. So the obvious solution was to touch Spock a lot, all the time, which Spock thankfully permitted. For the most part. Jim was trying to convince him that handholding was a logical friendship thing, but Spock insisted it was improper. He always turned a little bit green when Jim mentioned it.

Jim nuzzled into his neck briefly and then grabbed him by the arm to pull him along. "Come on, we have to go exploring!"

"Jim, we must pack supplies first."

"No, we don't. C'mon, Spock, I wanna get to the caves  _now."_

"If we take supplies, we can have a human picnic while in the caves and stay out there far longer. In addition, yesterday you stated a desire to explore further back but were unable to do so due to lack of flashlights."

Jim huffed. "Fine. But this means we absolutely have to play archaeologists finding hidden treasure, okay?"

Spock nodded in acquiescence.

* * *

Winona and Sam came to visit for a week over Christmas. Sam grumbled about Christmas in the desert without any snow, but mostly, his eyes just looked sad. Winona was even worse, with false, watery smiles and constant assurances that she loved Jim, that they weren't forgetting about him, that they would do this every year, promise.

His Christmas gift was a brand-new, top-of-the-line, no doubt expensive bicycle. Jim went nuts over it, and Winona was either crying or laughing while she hugged him, no one could tell.

She made some sort of pained, choked noise when she heard Jim call Amanda 'Mom,' so he avoided saying it again for the rest of their stay.

He gave her a homemade card of construction paper and foam stickers and lots of glitter the day that she left, to make for not being there on Mother's Day. It said 'I love you!' in giant letters on the front, and had a bad poem he wrote himself on the inside. And that was when Winona broke down and cried for real.

Amanda made a pretense of consoling her and then had the guards escort Jim's family out.


	5. Chapter 5

Amanda bought Jim a magnetic, hand-carved chess set made of genuine obsidian and marble for his twelfth birthday, and spent all afternoon teaching him to play. Jim thanked her profusely, and set it up on what was supposed to be a small tea table in his suite.

It took less than ten minutes for Spock to show up there and request that Jim teach him to play.

Jim wasn't a little kid anymore; at least, he didn't think so. Their bond had been explained to him in great depth. It was still unfulfilled, and Jim was slowly started to understand what it would take to fulfill it. One of his tutors had slipped up once and said it needed to be consummated, and Jim, well, Jim wasn't an idiot.

He understood that Spock was his soulmate, his husband, or husband-to-be, depending on how you looked at it. He was Spock's bondmate and prince consort. He would see him through his Time and their katras would stay linked together even after death.

Jim supposed he should probably think it was weird, that he was twelve and kinda-sorta-married. Humans didn't really do that. But Vulcans did, and Jim was basically an honorary Vulcan, and he lived on the Vulcan homeworld. It was perfectly normal for a Vulcan his age to be bonded.

And Spock was fifteen and tall and his voice had changed now to a deep, rich tone that Jim wanted to drown in. It was safe to say he had the world's biggest crush. With Spock's touch telepathy and how often they were in contact with each other, he was fully aware of it.

He had told Jim it pleased him and it was logical to desire one's mate.

"Isn't it illogical to play human games?" Jim asked, moving a pawn.

"Perhaps," Spock said. "But I have found that you have driven me to many illogical acts over the years."

Jim smiled. "And I'm just getting started. Imagine when we're fully bonded, all the crazy things I'll convince you to do then. I mean, a human convinced your dad to emancipate their entire planet."

"Emancipating planets is not an action I am capable of taking, nor will I ever be. Sybok, as the eldest, is the crown prince. He is the one who shall ascend to the throne of the Empire one day."

"Yeah," Jim said. "But still, it's fun to think about. You'd be a way better Emperor than Sybok would anyway.  He'd probably do something crazy, like ban logic or start a war with the Klingons just for kicks or something. Make everyone wear yellow on Tuesdays just because he has the power to do so."

"I do dread my brother's reign," Spock said. "However, Sarek has been instructing him in preparation for it practically since he was born. It cannot possibly be that bad."

* * *

At least a hundred holocams lined the throne room, all of them fixed on the tableau at the head of it. Sarek stood grimly in front of the throne, his family arranged neatly on either side of him, all except Sybok.

Six burly guards marched in, Sybok centered between them, bound heavily with duranium chains. He was handcuffed, his legs shackled, there was even a collar around his throat with six chains attached to it, one for each of the guards. He wore tattered, dirty sackcloth, his hair mussed and his eyes wild. The past few months had worn heavily on him. His skin was sallow and sunken, practically clinging to his bones. His beard had grown out wildly, untamed and feral-looking. All his visible skin showed injuries, and practically everyone had to know at this point that his back was covered in whip marks as well.

Sarek had televised it as he'd done it, after all.

But almost as a mockery, he had left Sybok still wearing his royal pendant, the giant green gemstone that marked him as the crown prince.

The guards brought him before Sarek and then spread out a good distance, pulling the chains around his neck taut.

"Sybok of Vulcan, son of Sarek, son of Skon, Crown Prince of the Vulcan Empire, Duke of Kir, Lord of Shi'Kahr," Sarek intoned. "You have been charged with treason of the highest order, a criminal disavowment of our ways of life, and further incitation to treason and rebellion among others. You may now beg for mercy."

"I waive the right to beg for mercy," Sybok snapped.

"Very well," Sarek said. He unsheathed his sword and held it at his son's throat, just above the collar. "Have you any last words?"

"Yes. This Empire is corrupt. Dozens of worlds have been raped and pillaged, genocide committed against hundreds more. The people have no freedom, no equality. Their rights are abused and ignored. Revolution is necessary! Your grand Emperor Sarek is planning to--"

The sword sliced cleanly through his throat with a slick, wet sound. Sybok's head fell and hit the ground with a thud, blood bubbling up from what used to be his throat. The guards calmly lifted away the collar and chains, moving back out of Sarek's way and allowing the body to fall. Sarek picked it back up by the shoulder. He snatched the green pendant off his son's chest.

He walked over and laid it around Spock's neck ceremonially. He said high-sounding words that proclaimed him the new crown prince of the Empire. Spock heard none of it.

All he could focus on was his brother's blood coating the necklace, hot and wet against his skin, until it dried into a sticky, tacky mess as their father spoke.

* * *

Jim and Spock went back to Jim's suite silently, moods somber. The first thing Spock did once the door closed was yank the necklace off and go to the bathroom to scrub his neck clean until it was raw. There was blood all over his clothes too. He decided it definitely wasn't enough and got in the shower, first using the sonics and then water at a temperature that would scald humans. He stayed in Jim's bathroom for 43.56 minutes, and when he got done with the shower, fresh robes were waiting for him.

He stepped into the main area of Jim's suite and the necklace was nowhere in sight. Given to servants to put back in storage, no doubt.

"Your skin has steam coming off of it," Jim said absently.

Spock blinked and looked down at himself. "So it does."

Jim jerked his head towards the little table by the window. "Chess?"

"It is agreeable."

They reset the board from their last match and played in silence for 11.2 minutes. Neither of them was foolish enough to assume their rooms were unmonitored. There were audio bugs in place at the least, if not visual as well. Spock didn't know how long that had been the case, but he knew it was true. Sarek would not tolerate another traitor in his family.

No one knew precisely how Sybok had been caught. That fact alone was troubling. Sarek would not divulge what had happened even to gloat over the foolish traitor's incompetence. Spock was left to conclude that Sybok had not been incompetent, that he had been meticulously careful and planning his uprising for years, and yet he had been caught anyway.

Perhaps their rooms had always been bugged.

They could not speak freely. They could not use a padd, obviously. They could not write things down on paper, as surely the security would be able to pick up the sounds of it, even if they continued moving chess pieces all the same, no matter how careful they were.

"It has been a while since we have mind melded," Spock said. "I desire it. Come sit in my lap and obey."

Jim blinked up at him. Spock did this sometimes, put on a show of dominance over Jim when others were watching, stating clear as day that the human was not in any way his equal. And then when they were back alone again and Spock was absolutely sure of that, he would apologize profusely and murmur assurances and ask if he had made Jim uncomfortable. Jim knew that if he said yes even once, Spock would stop it altogether. He also knew that those little displays were the biggest protection he had.

So Jim got out of his chair and crawled into Spock's lap, tilting his head in invitation for a meld. Spock hesitated with his fingers poised, and Jim gave the smallest nod he was capable of. Spock relaxed and plunged his fingers into Jim's meld points.

Normally when they meld, they spend at least the first few minutes just luxuriating in the feel of each other's minds, exploring eagerly, both hungry to know everything they possibly can about each other. But this wasn't like that.

 _We have to do something,_ Jim thought.

 _I know,_ Spock agreed.  _But I will not have you executed as Sybok was._

_Yeah, and you neither. We have to be careful. We can't get caught._

_I believe Sybok was careful and it did him very little good._

_So what do you propose then? We be reckless?_

_I believe dire measures are in order. It is not safe to stay here any longer. We must run away._

_Okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. But not immediately._

_Why? I believe it is incredibly foolish to stay even a moment longer._

_Spock, Sarek is practically a frothing mess of paranoid rage right now. Security is on high alert and has been for months. The other day he forced Michael into an interrogation meld for saying she didn't want to marry Sir Stonn. Amanda hasn't left the royal bedchambers in a week except for meals, and not even all of them. He's super suspicious and on guard and if we try making a break for it now, we'll be caught in seconds. And then killed. No, we have to wait until things cool down a bit. We have to pretend that everything's normal._

_Your logic is sound,_ Spock thought. _But I find the idea of you being in danger highly disagreeable._

_The same to you, Spock. You're going to have to play the part of the perfectly loyal prince._

_And you, my subjugated human mate._ A new flavor of distaste washed over the worry and fear that permeated the meld.

_We need to come up with a plan. But we can't talk about it and we can't engage in more mind melds than usual, or Sarek'll notice. It's a shame we aren't fully bonded. Then we could talk all the time without anybody knowing._

_You are twelve._

_Isn't there any other way to complete the bond?_

_A preliminary bond is a preliminary bond. We are betrothed, and we will be truly married only when our union is consummated. I am sorry._

_Ugh,_ Jim thought.  _And it can't be consummated with just a kiss or something?_

_..._

_Wait. You don't know?_

_Sarek did, at one point, sit down with me and attempt to teach me about such things, but I found his mannerism extremely distasteful and actively blocked the conversation from my mind._

_Hey, it's worth a shot._

_Are you sure?_

_Spock, I've been trying to get you to hold my hand for seven years now. Please just do it already._

Spock broke the meld, and Jim grinned when he saw he was blushing. He held up two fingers, clear challenge in his eyes, and Spock met them with two of his own, eyes fluttering closed. Jim had a weird urge to lean in and give him a kiss in the human way, but that wasn't what they'd agreed on, so he didn't.

Nothing really happened except Spock's cheeks getting a bit greener, and so they broke their chaste experimental kiss, both disappointed.

Jim gave a little quirk of his lips and went back to his own seat, moving a bishop in a way he had planned to do so earlier. "Checkmate in five moves."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this fic was gonna be a oneshot? And then when I said it would only be four chapters? Yeah. Fuckin whoops. I swear I'm gonna keep it short though
> 
> That said, this chapter actually freaked me out to write, but I feel like it's pretty necessary dystopian worldbuilding. Also, I finally give an explanation for Amanda's behavior. I realize this has got to be one of maybe three fics in existence where she isn't a perfect mother

And thus began Spock's training as future sovereign.

"I intend to propose diplomatic talks to the Romulans for the purpose of establishing normal relations," Sarek said.

Spock tilted his head curiously. "Are not the Romulans a weak and inferior race? You have stated previously that it is beneath you to even acknowledge them as a fellow imperial power."

"Indeed. That statement remains true. However, it was never made public. This is quite obviously a trap, Spock. Surely you are aware that I could not actually wish for peace with the Romulans."

"Logical," he said.

"Were you sovereign, what would your plan be?"

Genuine peace, Spock thought, but he considered his father carefully before answering. "You should not invade immediately. The Romulans are hardly fools. They will surely expect such a gesture to be a trap, and will be appropriately on guard. You should maintain diplomatic relations for at least two years before the initial strike."

"Detail the relations. How should they be conducted?"

"The diplomatic party should be as guarded or moreso than the Romulans. They should not give an indication to be willing to cede any lands, even in the disputed territory. They should claim the desire for peace stems from a species kinship and motive for increased profit through trade. It is acceptable and expected for such talks to be allowed to drag on, as neither party is known for being willing to compromise. The Romulans have no reason to believe you hold any animosity towards them, and it is commonly believed that Vulcans cannot lie."

"You are missing something," Sarek said. "What of the internal public reaction?"

"The people will be most displeased at the prospect of war, especially after being promised peace. It will be necessary to fabricate a story which implicates the Romulans. It will have to be stated that they betrayed us and initiated the conflict."

Sarek frowned. "Your perspective is skewed. That is not the course I shall take at all. The existence of the diplomatic talks will never be announced to the public. After the war, many find the Romulans displeasing and would be upset by the notion of peace. Vulcans are a warlike people, my son. It is in our nature. The talks will be kept secret, we shall lull the Romulans into a false sense of security, and then announce our glorious conquest of their empire. Nothing stirs patriotism quite like a war to fight."

"Ah. I see. I had not considered that."

"Perhaps you have been spending too much time with that Terran of yours."

"Father, he has lived on Vulcan for almost his entire life. He can hardly be said to be contaminated by Terran ideas."

"And yet, he does not follow the path of logic. He is highly emotional. He is intelligent enough for a human, and yet has not converted to our way of life as your sister has."

"You consider Michael logical?" Spock asked, unable to keep all of the surprise out of his voice.

"To a degree," Sarek said. "The issue of her upcoming marriage is an exception."

"Humans find the idea of forced marriage for political gain to be unpleasant. It is in her nature to resist."

"Negative. Humans themselves used to practice such things for hundreds if not thousands of years. And she will not be able to resist much longer."

"Father?"

"She is psi-null, Spock, and to be bonded to a powerful telepath. It is hardly an equal arrangement. Stonn will be able to exert whatever influence over her that he wishes."

Cold dread seeped through Spock's chest. "Is that why Mother is so compliant?"

"Indeed," he said calmly, sipping his tea. "She resisted quite fiercely when I first acquired her. Humans have a very curious philosophy. I tolerated that for a time, as it amused me, but it soon became a nuisance. She had already been named Queen Consort by this time. I implanted the bond, and I broke her mind with it." He looked at Spock appraisingly. "Have you not practiced exerting such control over your own mate?"

"Jim and I have not fully bonded."

"You turned sixteen years of age a matter of weeks ago. Surely you desire such things by now. Most teenagers are quite insatiable."

"Jim is yet twelve, Father."

"And?"

"I have no physical desire for a child, nor would I order one to my bed."

"You do sound like a Terran," he accused. "It is unseemly to allow a half-claimed mate to run free, Spock, especially one that is not Vulcan. I will indulge your preferences for now, but I must insist he be fully under your control once you reach adulthood. Human teenagers are a nuisance I do not desire to suffer a second time."

Spock nodded. "We will bond once Jim is eighteen."

"Once  _you_ are eighteen," Sarek corrected. "I believe you heard me the first time, Spock. Do not make me repeat myself again."

"Of course not, Father. I deeply apologize."

Sarek stared at him, and Spock was gripped with blind panic that he would demand a meld. But he didn't, and they moved on to discussing war strategies.

* * *

Michael's wedding was not televised, thankfully. Or perhaps unthankfully. Spock couldn't help but think that the resistance movement would gain a lot more support if it had been shown.

Stonn awaited her at the place of koonut kal-if-fee, face utterly impassive and wearing black robes. His eyes were lined with kohl, words in ancient Golic written down his face, his ears dripping with piercings and gold accessories to cover the tips. A minor cultural holdover from ancient times.

Michael was led out on a leash at swordpoint in a white dress that barely covered her. It was allegedly a human tradition, not that anyone there would know.

She wouldn't stop crying. It was silent now. She had screamed her voice hoarse over an hour ago.

The collar she was wearing was exactly the same as the one Sybok had been placed in, with the same heavy duranium chain and everything. Spock could not help but think it was a bad omen. That all of Sarek's children were being weeded out, one by one, in order of age. That it was all inevitable and he could do nothing to change their fate.

That one day it would be he and Jim in collars and chains.

The center of the Place of Marriage had a platform, containing a gong and a bed of coals. The guard leading Michael hooked her chain to the front of the platform, and it was short enough to force her to kneel.

Dowager Queen T'Pau officiated, and the ceremony itself was short. Michael screamed "I challenge!" over and over when Stonn banged the gong, but this was of course ignored. Challenge is not lawfully considered to be issued unless she physically prevents him from hitting the gong, and she was incapable of doing that.

A guard stepped forward to release the chain and hand her over to Stonn, but as soon as it was unhooked, Michael ran for it. She never even made it past the stone columns. A guard ran her through with a sword as she reached them.

"Fuck!" The palace's xeno-physician ran forward, pulling out his emergency medkit and scanner. Spock had forgotten that he was there. He watched in mute horror as red blood spilled out from his sister's stomach, staining her white dress all over. A small trickle escaped the side of her mouth. Her eyes still seemed lucid, though, her breathing even, if fast.

The doctor worked quickly, cutting the center of her dress away, injecting her with hypo after hypo, tools flying rapidly, and then finally closing her up with a dermal regen. He laid a bandage tenderly over the sore spot.

"She needs at least five days of bed rest, with absolutely no strenuous activities," the doctor said.

Stonn growled.

"The Lord Stonn is in pon farr," Sarek said. "What you ask is impossible."

"Dammit, man! If he tries fucking her in that condition, it'll tear open the wound. She'll bleed out on the bed! She  _cannot handle_ pon farr right now. It'll kill her."

Michael laughed hysterically, still lying on the ground in her tattered wedding dress and a pool of her own blood. "So let it."

"Three days at least," the doctor insisted. "And I see her every day before and after. Lord Stonn hasn't entered the plak tow yet. He can wait."

Sarek looked imperiously between them, his maimed daughter, the half-feral lord, the too-human physician. "I will allow a two-day reprieve."

"No!" Stonn shouted. "The woman is to be mine. It was agreed! I have made the ancient claim--"

A sword was at his throat. Stonn seethed, fists clenching. He swallowed. "I beg forgiveness, Your Royal Highness. Your judgement is best, and most merciful, of course."

"Indeed," Sarek said coldly.

The guards started to remove Michael, and she screamed and swore and started thrashing and the doctor had to sedate her before she harmed herself.

* * *

Amanda's gardens were still Jim's favorite place in the palace. He sneaks out some nights, out through his balcony and then climbing down the ivy along the wall. And he goes out to the gardens and looks at the stars.

He brought Spock with him this night, not wanting to be alone.

"I used to think about joining the Imperial Fleet," he said. "When I was little."

"You would have made an excellent captain," Spock said. "Were humans permitted in such roles. And I cannot imagine you in any other."

Jim hummed. "Yeah. But it would never have been what I wanted it to be. I get that now," he said. "Still, though. It would be amazing, to sail the stars and go where no one else has gone. To see things no other sentient being has. Discover whole new worlds and meet new people."

"The scientific opportunities alone would be... astronomical." Jim giggled, and Spock spared him a small smile. "There could be discovered new plants and medicines and technologies. New methods of doing things or harnessing energies. The expansion of the scientific canon can only improve the quality of life for everyone. I believe even the Empire would find a way to benefit from an exploratory arm of the Fleet."

"Yeah. Too bad it's all military," he said. "Me and you, Spock, we could discover amazing things. We could be great explorers. The stuff of legends."

Spock hummed, and they sat in companionable silence. The air was thick with the scent of honey flowers and the buzz of nighttime insects. The birds were all sleeping, and it was a cloudless night, as always. Vulcan is never cloudy.

"See that group of stars there?" Jim asked, pointing. "They kinda look like a sehlat."

"Perhaps they were considered a constellation in ancient times."

"Perhaps they can be again," he said. "Let's make up a myth for them."

They stayed up all night, pointing at the sky and imagining constellations, creating new myths and new stories to replace the ones that had been forgotten. If all of them had a happy ending and many featured scrappy young heroes and a cruel dictator being slayed, well, that was their prerogative.

Dawn started breaking and Jim kept yawning, though he persistently denied being tired. He gave Spock a sleepy smile and a kiss on the cheek, then rested his head on his shoulder. Spock wove a grandiose tale of a dragon valiantly defending a princess from despicable knights, and Jim started snoring lightly. He pressed a kiss onto his blond hair, and carried him back into the palace.

 


End file.
